


Enemy Territory

by Fandoms_Are_Life37



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Revolution, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Smut, Begging, Crying, Cuddles, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Hate Sex, M/M, Oil, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Punishment, Revolutionary War, Rough Sex, Seme Alfred, Seme America, Smut, Top Alfred, Top America (Hetalia), Top Arthur, Top England (Hetalia), Uke Arthur, Uke England
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Are_Life37/pseuds/Fandoms_Are_Life37
Summary: Alfred sneaks into the British camp late at night, desperate to see Arthur again. Once there, they share an exchange that Washington and Cornwallis likely wouldn't approve of during wartime...
Relationships: America & England (Hetalia), America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 60





	1. Wartime Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Word count: 2,038
> 
> Estimated read time: 11 minutes
> 
> A/N: This is an excerpt from a fanfiction I'm working on, except that the scene in that book ends right before the smut. But I thought, hey, why don't I write the sex scene and put it in my one-shot book? So I did. Anyway. Yeah. If you want more, let me know, because I'm accepting beta readers!
> 
> Warnings: Strong language, sexual content

Alfred paced the length of his tent. It was really getting to him- not having Arthur around. Without him there to correct his grammar and scold him for leaving his shoes in the doorway, it was easy to forget about all the reasons living with him was so difficult and become enraptured with him all over again.

For days, all he'd been seeing were green eyes, soft blond hair, and his smile in everything. It was driving him crazy.

His pacing gained speed. He wanted Arthur- no, he needed Arthur.

But Arthur wasn't there.

His pacing stopped and he made a decision.

It was almost like he was in a daze as he pulled on his coat and crept out of the camp. It was almost like he wasn't in control of himself when he mounted a horse and took off toward the nearby British camp. And it was almost like he had lost his mind when he tied his horse to a tree, slipped past the sentinels, and searched the British camp for Arthur's tent.

Finding it wasn't hard. It was one of the nicest and largest ones with a guard stationed outside and Arthur's spare pair of boots in the grass beside the doorway.

He approached the tent boldly. The only soldiers out were huddled around a fire further away, far enough that the light couldn't reach him, aside from one outside the general's tent on the other side of the camp and the one guarding Arthur.

When he saw his outline, the soldier raised his musket. "Oy, you! Show yourself!"

Alfred was too far for the soldier to identify the color of his coat in the darkness. With a flawless impersonation of a British accent, he faked confusion. "What're you going on about?"

He lowered his gun. "No one's allowed this close to Mr. Kirkland's tent. You know the rules. Go back to the fire with the others."

"I want to speak with Mr. Kirkland, if you don't mind," Alfred replied. "It's about one of the horses."

"Go talk to a stableboy. They're in charge of them."

Alfred scoffed and drew on his repertoire of British words he had once used before his own culture developed. "As if those blokes have the foggiest idea what they're doing. Please? It's important."

"Sorry, no can do."

Guess they were doing this the hard way.

Alfred marched up and pushed past the soldier into the tent.

Arthur was there, writing something down at a desk. He looked up, startled, as the soldier came in after Alfred.

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to-"

"It's alright. Leave us."

The soldier looked between them uneasily, especially now that he could see the color of Alfred's coat, but nodded, stepping back out and assuming Alfred was a spy coming back to report. The tent's flap fell shut, leaving them alone.

Arthur got up apprehensively. "America... what are you doing here?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he strode forward to seize Arthur by the chin and hip, jerking him forward and slamming their lips together.

Arthur, shocked, didn't respond at first. His hands were still at his sides, tense and unsure until he began kissing back with even more intensity and his fingers found their way into Alfred's hair, gently tugging near the nape of his neck- just the way Alfred liked.

They broke for breath and Alfred began kissing down his neck. Arthur. "I- I don't understand. Why are you here and- ah!"

He was cut off when Alfred bit down, not hard enough to perforate the skin but enough to hurt. That was more than alright with Arthur, though, and he gasped, a shiver running down his spine. His grip on Alfred's hair tightened as he leaned into him, unable to resist his touch.

Alfred continued his work as his hands slid down to the buttons of Arthur's coat, undoing them as quickly as he could until he could throw it to the floor and lift Arthur up, setting him on the desk and yanking him close as he began working on Arthur's shirt.

"America, w- we're at war," Arthur said.

Alfred finally got Arthur's shirt off but paused at the statement. "So?"

For a moment, nothing happened.

"Fuck it," Arthur decided, taking Alfred's collar to drag him back into a kiss and beginning to undo the blue coat's buttons.

Alfred wiggled out of it once Arthur had gotten the last button unclasped and started to drift from his neck to his collarbone, nipping as he went and leaving marks along his otherwise smooth, unblemished skin.

Arthur tried to switch their positions, but Alfred caught his wrists, gripping and exerting his extra strength. "Not tonight, England."

He raised his brows in surprise. "You're going to...?"

Alfred nodded and shoved him down on the desk. Arthur hit the wood forcefully. There was a dull throbbing in his skull from where it connected, but how could he possibly notice it when Alfred had pulled him to the edge of the desk by the hips and leaned over him, taking off his own shirt without ceasing his descent down Arthur's chest?

Arthur almost told Alfred that he was topping and that there was no way in hell he'd let Alfred take control. He was the British Empire, after all, and outside this tent, he would dominate Alfred on the battlefield. Why should inside be any different? It almost felt like surrendering to let him press him down into the desk, which he most certainly was not going to do.

But when Alfred ran his hands down Arthur's sides, fingers skimming over his ribs, he couldn't help but gasp sharply and give in.

Alfred reached down to unclasp Arthur's pants. "Up."

He lifted his hips so that Arthur could tug them off and toss them to the ground. Then he was messing with his own pants, trying to twist out of them without moving away from Arthur. Frustrated, Alfred had to let go of him to get his pants off when they got caught around his ankles.

Arthur sat up, leaning his weight on his hands, which were still against the desk. "Hurry up."

Alfred shot him a glare. "You're so demanding."

"Shut up and get back here."

Happy to comply, Alfred shoved him back down, kissing rougher and biting more brutal. The spots he left on Arthur skins would surely be there at least a couple weeks. That idea excited Alfred. When Arthur would get ready in the mornings, pulling on his posh red military coat, he'd have to see them along his collar, reminding him that Alfred had already won once before.

Getting their underwear off wasn't as hindering, and soon Alfred had to ask where Arthur kept his lube.

"The drawer by your thigh," Arthur said, breathing ragged. "Red bottle."

Alfred pulled the desk drawer open. The bottle was there, among other miscellaneous items such as quills, a knife, and crumpled paper. Why it was stored there, Alfred didn't know, but he didn't care enough to ask.

He popped the cap off, not bothering to shut the drawer and coating his fingers. "You're going to regret everything you've done so far."

Arthur scoffed. "Like what?"

"Every last tax, every last act, and every shitty thing you've done to me in the past few years. You're going to get punished for it tonight."

A rude remark was on the tip of Arthur's tongue, but Alfred's first finger entered him and his train of thought derailed. "Ah!"

Alfred was good. Arthur wasn't sure what he was expecting considering that he had always topped before, but he supposed that Alfred had gotten practice while he was away on one of his long trips. After all, if he wasn't there to satisfy Alfred's needs, he supposed that Alfred would have to tend to them himself.

A second finger went in and Arthur groaned. No wonder Alfred didn't mind bottoming. This was everything could have asked for and more, especially once Alfred's fingers curled and pressed against his prostate.

"Oh fuck," Arthur cried, toes curling and head falling back. "That's good... do that again."

For all his talk of independence, Alfred followed his directions remarkably easily, touching him in the same spot with more pressure. "You like that?"

"Y- Yes!"

Contact with Arthur's prostate was lost as he straightened his fingers, continuing to scissor him but denying him what he wanted. "If you want more, you'll have to ask nicely."

Guess he talked too soon. Dammit.

"Fuck you," Arthur spat, but he couldn't help but grind down on Alfred's fingers, needing more.

"No, I'll be doing the fucking tonight, sweetheart. But not unless you get your act together."

He sighed. "For god's sake. Really?"

"Really."

Was it humiliating to be beneath Alfred, having to admit what he wanted aloud? Yes. But the urge for pleasure was stronger. "Please... please?"

"Well, since you were so polite," Alfred grinned, curling his fingers once again and sending electricity through Arthur's veins.

"M- More. I need more," Arthur told him, hoping that he'd get his wish since he asked.

No such luck.

"More what? How can I give you what you want if I don't know what you want, hmm? What do you want me to do to you, England?"

Voice trembling from the agonizing pleasure and consuming need, Arthur gasped, "I want you to fuck me. I want it so, so bad."

"Alright." Alfred slicked himself up and, without warning, thrust inside Arthur's hole.

He cried out in pleasure, hands gripping the edges of the desk so hard his knuckles were white. "Holy shit, yes!"

Alfred set a grueling pace, slamming into him over and over again, striking his prostate nearly every time. Arthur was even tighter than he expected, but it only added to his pleasure. "Ugh, you're so tight..."

Arthur could barely hear him. All he could think about was the euphoria and how he was already close to release.

Never once did Alfred slow down. He'd nearly pull all the way out just to ram back in while watching Arthur try to keep his noises in check. Was that a challenge he sensed?

Fine. If Arthur wanted to play it this way, he'd give him the best sex of his life until he couldn't help but scream.

Alfred took Arthur's cock in his hand and began stroking it, sure to brush his thumb over the tip each time he reached the top. Arthur's thighs on either side of Alfred tightened in pleasure and his eyes fluttered shut. Holding still was impossible and he squirmed when Alfred took both of his wrists to pin them above his head with one hand; his other kept pumping Arthur's cock faster and faster.

"I'm close," Arthur moaned.

"Oh no, you don't. Hold it in. And open those pretty eyes of yours."

Arthur did as told with difficulty. It took his whole will to not come undone and keep his eyes open. "But I have to!"

"And I said no. So don't you dare come," Alfred growled. "Or I'll make you regret it."

Arthur bit his lip and whined, unable to control his noises anymore.

The intensity was building. Alfred could feel it in his gut like a knot about to unravel. He couldn't let this end. Not yet. "I want you to say my name."

"W- What?" Arthur stammered.

"I said, I want you to say my name. Tell me who is making you feel this good."

"America!"

"That's right. I am."

Alfred's name began to spill from Arthur's lips uncontrollably like a record stuck on repeat until they were both at the edge.

"America, I can't wait anymore!"

"I know, darling. Go ahead," Alfred granted.

The moment had permission, Arthur came undone, spine arching, crying out Alfred's name, and seeing stars. With his climax hitting him, all of his muscles tightened, squeezing Alfred's cock and making him hit his high, too.

Alfred continued thrusting a few more times so that they could each ride out their highs and come down from cloud nine. Eventually, he withdrew, leaning against the desk to catch his breath. Arthur's legs slumped down and he inhaled deeply, trying to clear the lusty fog from his brain.


	2. Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is distraught when Alfred leaves to go back to the American camp, but Alfred realizes that he can't let Arthur be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 883
> 
> Estimated read time: 4 minutes 30 seconds
> 
> I decided to split up the smut and angst because I want to. Fight me.
> 
> Warnings: Strong language, depressing content
> 
> For those of you that didn't read the smut, here's a quick recap: Alfred went to Arthur's camp during the war and they hooked up. That's basically it.

When he could, Arthur, sat up on his elbows, chest still heaving and covered in red marks. "I should let you top more often."

Alfred chuckled lightly, grabbing a bath towel that had been conveniently thrown over the back of the desk chair to wipe himself down. "More often?"

"Yes. I have to admit, that was good."

He began putting his clothes back on, tossing Arthur his own and the towel. "You know this changes nothing, right?"

Arthur blinked in confusion, pausing with his pants only half up. "Oh. Right."

"Call it foreshadowing," Alfred said, pulling his jacket on and buttoning it up. "I'm going to win this war."

There was that dread again, flooding Arthur while he buckled his belt and started getting his shirt back on. "If you're still so mad at me, why did you come here?"

He paused, examining Arthur's expression. "Wait, you didn't think this was some kind of makeup sex, did you?"

"No," Arthur lied.

"Oh god, you did, didn't you? It was just sex, England. It didn't mean anything. I've just been frustrated lately."

Arthur, now clothed, crossed his arms. "Bullshit. If all you needed was someone to fuck, you could have gone to France or some random soldier. But you came all the way here, risking your life, I might add, to see me."

He shrugged nonchalantly, finishing the last button of his coat and adjusting his cuffs. "What can I say? I particularly wanted to fuck you." He flattened out his hair and started to leave, but Arthur caught his arm before he could go.

"Wait!"

Alfred stopped. "What?"

"Tell me this isn't it. Tell me that there's a chance for us to be together again."

The silence in the tent was deafening until Alfred summoned the words. "I can't."

And with that, he was wrenching his arm out of Arthur's grip and leaving. Before he knew what was happening, Arthur was alone again, staring after him and feeling torn between raising the alarm to have Alfred captured before he could get back to his own side, punching someone, and crying.

He settled on the last one, sinking onto his bed and putting his head in his hands as the tears began to fall. How could he do that? How could Alfred just come into his camp, kiss him, fuck him silly, and leave again?

"I forgot my-" Alfred started when he stepped back into the tent. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Arthur. "Oh. You know what, that's okay, I don't really need it."

His hand was on the tent's door when he stopped, realizing he couldn't leave. As much as he hated Arthur, he still loved him and he couldn't walk away from him when he was in this state. So he turned back around, watching Arthur wipe his tears away aggressively.

"What? What did you forget?" Arthur demanded, voice wavering but still conveying his anger.

Alfred sighed, going back to kneel in front of Arthur, taking his hands and looking into his eyes since they were at eye level. "It doesn't matter. But you do."

Arthur laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right."

"I still love you. I think you know that. If I didn't, this wouldn't all be so hard. So I can't go when you're like this."

"Stop," Arthur said, starting to cry again. "Don't do this. Don't mess with my emotions like that. I can't take anymore, America. I just can't."

"I'm not trying to. It's true. I've never loved anyone like I've loved you," Alfred murmured, brushing some hair back behind Arthur's ear and looking at him with such a pained expression that Arthur knew it was true.

"Then why are you doing this?"

He sighed. "You know why. But that's not what's important now."

"How can you say that? It's always important, it's always ruining us! So how can you..." He trailed off, crying harder, unable to stop himself.

"We can fight about it later. Right now, what's important is you. I'm sorry that I came here. I shouldn't have. I guess I wasn't thinking. But I do love you."

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't spend one more second staring into Alfred's because, somehow, the worst part was that when he said he loved him, he was sincere. "I miss you."

"I know. I miss you, too. Every night when I lay down to sleep I'm stuck seeing us when we were happy. I want that back, too, Iggy. Fuck, if you think I don't wish none of this ever happened... Well, you're wrong."

Shaking, Arthur leaned in and kissed him gently, a complete contrast to their kisses ten minutes ago. This one was soft and salty from their tears, but it was everything Arthur had been wishing he had since that July day.

They pulled apart and touched foreheads, each taking uneasy breaths.

"Will you stay with me? Just for tonight? I don't think I can take it if you go again right now. I... please don't leave me alone."

Alfred nodded, getting up on the bed and pulling him in tightly, hugging him until Arthur could breathe properly. Then, he kicked off his shoes, shed his jacket, and lay down with Arthur held securely in his arms as night fell over Virginia.


End file.
